Heresy of Rain
by Mogrika
Summary: Uh...UPDATED (finally)? While chaotically shopping for Puck's presents, Freya runs into an old friend: Fratley. Upset, she escapes only to run into Amarant. But amidst the arguing, they team up to find out the truth behind the Burmecian rain.
1. Dragoon Dogma

Disclaimer: I don't own FFIX, or any of the characters. I'm broke anyway, so if you sued, you might get a penny.

  


Note: I use alliteration a lot. There's one already (I think...). I'm poetic, random, and I don't tend to take constructive criticism too well. But you can still give it to me as long as you don't ramble on into a list of terrible things about the story. Also, I don't know why, but I used Dragon Knight interchangeably with Dragoon. You can tell me if I'm wrong or I need to change it because I have no idea if that's wrong or right. Oh, what else...nope, that's it. =)

  


Heresy of Rain by cherry

  


Part I- Dragoon Dogma

  


Freya Crescent, an elite member of the royal Dragon Knights of Burmecia, was currently in the insane process of Christmas present shopping. The mad, chaotic rush of people scurrying around to buy presents was far more than irritating. Sure, it was a joy to receive and a joy to give, but who knew what sort of twisted minds were behind the aphorism-like prose of greeting cards. As far as she was concerned, Christmas shopping was hell on earth. The disorderly exodus of Burmecians from their homes to the shops was an unmistakable factor that made this time of year so vexatiousand frightening.

  


No sane person would venture out onto the foggy streets to get rain-soaked, possibly mugged, and, almost for sure, beaten for some reason or another. That was perhaps the reason that only Dragon Knights and Burmecian guards were seen during this holiday anymore. At least the Dragoons and guards could purchase their belongings with an air of gracethat is until they find the consumer who purchased the last of a certain giftthen it would become ugly. 

  


Freya, however, maintained her benevolence and grace. She wasn't willing to stoop so low as to steal from the seemingly innocent Burmecian families. There were only a few families that didn't hire a Dragon Knight or guard to purchase their gifts or accompany them. Those that couldn't find a guard simply invaded the streets in their huge flocks, defending the carrier the bags of gifts in the center of the ring. Whenever Freya witnessed these strange happenings, she shook her head sadly and sauntered off in the opposite direction. She wanted no association with the mad shopping rush and had hoped that she wouldn't be asked by someone to accompany them.

  


Unfortunately, Puck, who favored her over all the other Dragon Knights, asked her of that very favor. She complied with his request, and thus she was wandering the streets, searching for the silly presents scribbled on a sheet of parchment. 

  


Christmastime brought the worst instead of the best out of the usually kind, generous, and family-attached Burmecians. But perhaps it happened to be those same qualities that brought about their worst traits. They would rip through the streets, trying to bargain out one another for that rare wood-working tool and race to purchase the rare trinkets that the little ones pleaded for. They were all _too_ family-devoted, if you asked Freya. Her connections with her family were severed long ago, and she wasn't about to reflect on it again. Why should she? After all, they were the ones who had so blithely insisted on her leaving, while they were at their darkest hour. But being young, priorities always seemed to be a twisted thing, never seeing the true light until it was finally too late and Fate stole her happiness.

  


Her family, who she thought she could trust and confide in, had fled Burmecia after being questioned of a Burmecian scandal. Freya remembered thinking that the family insisted on her leaving to end _her own_ misery. But as it turned out, the family's intention all along was to leave _her!_ By the time she was back, Fratley had learned of her family's fall from power. He almost ended it with Freya then, as he felt ashamed to be associated with her. It seemed to be the common attitude towards Freya at the time. She vowed to be independent and regain honor for her family name. She solved the problem by becoming a Dragon Knight. Her family's social status had been regained, but it didn't matter any longer to Freya. During her many years of training, she learned to despise her family for their infidelity and fall from virtue to dirty corruption.

  


Now was not the time to reminisce over past tragedies, however. She was in a new light now and she no longer had the burden of the past upon her shoulders. She looked around and tipped her hat upward a bit to get a view of her surroundings.

  


The ground was polluted with tattered wrapping paper lying defenseless against the battering rain and shreds of ribbons glittering in the strong gusts of wind. It looked as if someone had thrown a late-night party and everyone had hangovers. Hopefully, one of those drunken knaves won't come ambling over to me,' thought Freya in utter disgust.

  


Speak of the devil. As if on cue, a lanky Burmecian crashed full-force into Freya and caused both of them landed very awkwardly. The tall man was lying atop Freya but both were blinded by shopping bags. She was a bit uncomfortable at the circumstances and fidgeted nervously under the Burmecian who, surprisingly, wasn't drunk. She could tell he was sober as the strong smell of Burmecian alcohol was absent on him or his clothes. Not often was it that Freya lost her grace, but as it happened to be, this was one of the times.

  


Excuse meYou should exercise your discretionsir. I apologize, however said Freya with a hint of irritation evident in her voice. She had not known whether to be angry or sorry, thus her reply came out very strange indeed. But the reply was soon forgotten, as the stranger stood and brushed some silvery hair out of his face.

  


I see we meet once again, Lady Freya, said an unfazed Fratley, picking himself up off of Freya.

  


Sir Fratley! I-I'm terribly sorry! exclaimed Freya, turning crimson with chagrin. This cannot occur nowit's too early!' Freya thought frantically. She cleared her mind of the thought and continued despondently, must be leaving now

  


She picked up her bags full of gifts and slid away into the depths of darkness, the crystallized rain falling from the sky onto the pallid face of Sir Fratley.

  


~*~

  


Bah, Christmas!' thought Freya miserably. Her encounter with Fratley had shaken her, as she wasn't ready to face him. So it's true his memory still lingers,' she thought, distressed and uneasy. She was hoping that there would be a way to forget about him, but as much as she had tried searching for that way, her attempts were fruitless and to no avail.

  


She paused at the border between rain and snow. It seemed magical that the snow fell only over the town square during the wintertime. Elsewhere, the rain still battered on and on, bouncing back off of the stone grounds of Burmecia, like echoes straying afar from a yonder voice. Freya sat on the edge of a bench that was forlorn and abandoned, as everything except town square was, during this holiday season. She closed her eyes painfully, and recalled a memory from a time not so distant in the past

  


  


_She had said it. Freya had finally spoken the three words of promise that were so hard for her to voice. It had taken a long time and now, she was ready to hear his response. Freya stole a glance at Fratley, hoping he would return her rather shaky vow. Her eyes were lucid with the hope of true love and flickered slightly as she anxiously awaited Fratley's approval. Her nervousness, however, did not bypass her elatedness, for she had contemplated the speech for many months, choosing the exact words to match her fickle emotions. Finally, she became convinced that he wouldn't turn her down. But Fratley, who was looked as if he was having some sort of mental argument or an epileptic fit, replied hesitatingly, You are a truly a woman worthy of her given name, in terms of beauty, skill on the battlefield, among other things as well. You are most deserving of the best man, someone who can support you and dedicate his entire life to youbut it is far too soon for me to be able to committo you. He was finished and turned away from Freya, his eyes shut to block out the heart-breaking image of her before him. It was evident that Freya's speech had hurt him as much as Fratley's reply had hurt her, but his last words stung the most and they echoed in her mind long after they were said._

  


_I seeWell, I am sorry for wasting your time said Freya, shielding her eyes. She added in a soft undertone, Goodbye, Sir Fratley. This may be the last time we meet_

  


_Freya tipped her hat politely and ran off, faster and faster into the blinding monsoon until Fratley was out of view._

  


  


  


Freya's face twisted convulsively at the bittersweet memory. She was angry that she acted with such naïveté, letting herself fall completely for Fratley. Only an adolescent would act upon such a naïve whim! She thought she was past that stage in her life, but it seemed that she would always be head-over-heels in love for him. She shook her head wildly, trying to dispel the awful thought. 

  


Seeing Fratley again after he had rejected her was humiliating and also sad. Sad, to see that he was faring well without her. Sad, to see he was _enjoying _the hellish thrashing of overenthusiastic shoppers. Sad, to seethat he wasn't the man she fell in love with anymore! As the thought occurred to her, she was even angrier with herself. Even though Fratley had changed to become someone she hardly knew, she still loved him!

  


What an annoyance, laughed Freya bitterly. She treaded somberly in the rainy and depressing Burmecian streets, wandering through familiar lanes made unknown by her anger that twisted her vision. She ambled on without a particular destination, just runningrunning away from her terrible thoughts and unpleasant memories. She felt she must have run hundreds of miles when she finally came to a stop. The air in her lungs was depleted and she gasped erratically. She stood motionless for a moment and just laughed. She laughed at the irony of the whole situation- she loved him wholly, yet, he could not even recall such an emotion. To him, Freya was just another woman, just another meandering body that walked the streets. To him, she was a nonentity- she basically didn't exist. And to this, Freya laughed and laughed until her laughs became sobs. Unwanted tears spilled out in a deluge and she angrily pushed them away. Crying was something worthy of only deep shame. It was ungraceful for a Dragon Knight to shed tears, unless they were tears for of a family. That was Freya's one hindrance to becoming a Dragon Knight- she was very sentimental and would cry often. But she remembered the words of her now-vanished mother consoling her one gusty night 

  


_It's all right, darlingCry if you feel the need. See the rain outside? It cries too. It cries almost everyday_

  


Freya paused retrospectively and mulled over the thought. If these raindrops are the tears shed by Burmeciawhat reasons might it have for perpetually being forlorn?' She had stopped crying by this point and pondered at the thought and focused on the perplexing puzzle.

  


After many moments of fathoming, she came to a realization. Oh gods! I speak of such nonsense! Burmecia is not an entity and has no emotions! I must be logical and realistic.' 

  


Realistic, she did become. She reverted back into real-life and cataracts of memories spilled upon her. The new memories of today that had been placed on a shelf in the back of her mind rose again to haunt her.

  


Freya regretted snapping back to reality. She wanted anything to just hide in her intriguing puzzle, drowned by theories and conjectures and material evidence. She let out a shrill shout, No, no, no! 

  


There must be a way to rid these recollections!' Freya was frenetic for a solution, a distraction, anything to whisk her away from the harsh, tangible light of reality. 

  


There was something- something that kept nagging at her. She recognized a voice in her mind that spoke to her softly. It wasn't Burmecianit sounded strangely foreign, but she was able to discern its dialect. She was comforted just by the angelic resonance of the voice and basked in its glorious euphony. But then she heard the voice fading slowly. She was in a frenzy to descry the last few words

  


_Seek solace in the verse of the psyche_

  


So if I say somethingI will recuperate? Freya was confounded as to which words out of millions to voice, but then became enlightened. Ah! I shall speak the words of loved ones! 

  


Recalling words that her companions often used, she let out all her anger and grief through a string of profane words and concluded her philippic with, Damn this! Damn you! Oh, whatever! ...Ah, much better...

  


A low rumble answered her. 

  


Freya was drained of most of her anger now, but she felt the cold close in on her. She shivered, thinking of the impending storm lying yonder, sending a roll of thunder as its warning.

  


Then the rumbling protracted longer.

  


Freya froze immediately and realized it wasn't thunder- someone was watching her. Someone was watching her with its unseen eyes, shrouded in a shadowed corner that was invisible to her. Which corner was it? Were they above her, below her, behind her, in front, left, right? The possible directions spun in her head, and she felt reality separate from her as if she was being spun around in a centrifuge. That one thought haunted her and caused her to tremble involuntarily. 

  


Be confident. Be brave. There is no reason to fear!' Freya ran this through her mind, but to no avail. For her, there was a definite cause for fear. Freya fared well in combat and on the battlefield where she could physically see her opponent. In fact, she would almost always come out the victor with a nonchalant expression, but thisthis was entirely different. She was up against a mere specter and she had not a single idea of its location. It terrified her to think that the unknown shadow had the advantage here while she was at the other end of the spectrum.

  


It could see her. 

  


It could watch her. 

  


It could strike her. 

  


She couldn't. 

  


  


  


  


  



	2. Shadowed Light

Disclaimer: I don't own FFIX, because if I did, Freya, Quina, Amarant, and Eiko would have bigger roles!

Oh right, don't sue me.

  


Note: This really is a WHOLE LOT of genres! It's really weird I know, but somehow, it came out that way. Thanks to all of those that reviewed; they really make my day. =)

  


Heresy of Rain by cherry

  


Part II- Shadowed Light

  


Never had Freya felt so helpless. She was ashamed that she couldn't deal with this little predicament in her usual manner. Freya felt as if she was the only Knight in history to dishonor the regal Dragon Knights of Burmecia. 

  


You _are_ a Dragoon! Do not forget the title that you were knighted with. Absolve these ridiculous fears! You should strike fear into _their_ heart, they shouldn't strike fear into _yours_!'

  


The cheesy motivational speech gave her a bit of the confidence she lacked but it still wasn't enough to convince her. She tried again frantically, Let's seeyour family. You really _do_ miss them don't you? Well live to see your family members again. You're a Burmecian at heart, and all Burmecians share some sort of special bond with their family. Even if they had betrayed you and left you to fend for yourself, they are still your familyLive to see them and then you can confront them if you wish. Seeing them again should be the scariest moment of your life, not a trifling matter such as this! Just survive for now!' The slightly pessimistic speech had the desired effect, however, and her eyes reverted back to become cold and merciless once again, with death as her goal.

  


Freya looked up sharply and instinctively gripped her spear with a death grip. She thrust her polearm blindly at the unknown intruder and asked tentatively, Who are you?

  


A thick silence hung suspended in the air and the tension began to build again. Freya could feel goosebumps creep all over herself as the temperature seemed to drop below the freezing point. The silence was unnerving, it seemed to lure her into a false sense of security- she _hated _that. Freya grew increasingly nervous and positioned herself for an ambush. She had hoped that her battle stance might motivate the aggressor to speak up. Still, the unknown figure refused to answer.

  


Then she heard a different growling noise that made her skin crawl. It was _laughing_ at her. It sounded half-amused, half-angry at Freya. And strangely enough, the first thought that popped into her mind was, It's going to eat me!' Of course, that was a silly thought! Why would the stalker eat her? It wouldn't dare unlessit was a rat-eating predator. Freya's eyes widened as the thought crossed her mind. No! They would immediately pounce upon their prey! It _can't_ beI sense the human soul within it' 

  


It laughed once more.

  


Hearing it laugh was horrifying. Freya could only envision what sort of horrors lay in store from this laughing, criminally insane, maniacal psychopath.

  


The laughing soon ceased and the sound of advancing footsteps could be heard.

  


Freya wondered if these footsteps could perhaps be walkingaway? No, the echoes of the footsteps became louder and the pace of their strides became faster. What should be done? She had no time to think. Her instinct told her that standing around was going to get her killed. She listened to the sage voice and jumped backwards. She nearly fell over as she slid on her landing. The endless torrents of rain seemed to be frolicking in the chaotic pursuit and did not relent their lashing whips of water.

  


The option of escape was open to her and now was the only time she could escape. In a second, the time allotted for escape would be far too minimal and the assailant would be much too near for her to escape successfully. But escaping was against Freya's tough nature. She stood her ground and tried once more, Speak your name if you wish to live.

  


The alley walls were silent as if they, too, were waiting to hear the identity of the mysterious intruder. The echo of footsteps was still heard bouncing of the dank walls. However, the pace slowed down to a leisurely stride. She relaxed, sensing that the invader would reveal their identity any moment now.

  


The dark shape moved out from the shaded alley and into a beam of a streetlight. He replied amusingly, Still paranoid I see.

  


Freya was thunderstruck as she realized who it was. Seeing the induced a tidal wave of emotions upon her. She was relieved and then a bit angry and then suddenly tired and then she was sad, once again. Her emotions had floated back to Fratley for some strange reason and she vowed to dispose of his memory soon. But tears already began to well up in her eyes, and she attempted to push all the thoughts and emotions out of her head when she greeted, Well, hello, Amarant.

  


As the bounty hunter approached her, Freya hastily tried to cover up her newly formed tears and endeavored to put on a happy face as Eiko had once put it. But Amarant saw this and his smirk slightly faded. He asked her, Who died? It was an Amarant way of asking if someone was okay. 

  


But Freya was all too used to his nonchalance and replied crankily, Oh, go away. It was her way of saying that she was fine. 

  


All right, then.

  


  


There was a soft silence that followed. Amarant felt that there really was something the matter with Freya so he tried once more, Are you sure someone wasn't murdered?

  


Freya smiled slightly and teased, Nope, but you were a close one.

  


Not if I could help it.

  


I highly doubt that.

  


Amarant was mildly confused, but he didn't let his confusion show.

  


Oh nothing Freya looked up at the rain and pretended to be disinterested.

  


Two can play that game,' thought Amarant smugly. Fine then, he shot back.

  


Hey, that's not fair! Freya countered, dropping her polite manner.

  


Who said life is always fair?

  


Freya didn't answer. The sound of splattered raindrops was magnified ten-fold as the voices ceased their parries, thrusts, and wards.

  


life isn't always fair Freya trailed off as she thought dismally of Fratley once more, against her own wishes. But this time she didn't have ward it away. There was something about being with her friends that took her mind off of her daily dilemmas.

  


But, we try Amarant finished for her.

  


And when that doesn't work, we force them to be, Freya teased, jovial once more.

  


All was back to normal again. Well, as normal as the two could be. Both the obstinate companions smiled in their own strange ways. 

  


Freya smiling minimally, acting as smug as she could, and Amarant smirking slightly while looking as devious as he could. Not exactly a but it was the closest they would get to it. The two comrades sitting in the alley looked incredibly suspicious with their strange smiles plastered on their face, but it didn't matter. Both knew that the other was smiling, regardless of how twisted and sinister they tried to make a normal and regular smile.

  


The dank unlit street they sat in was not to dampen the ridiculous Amarant and Freya had plastered on their faces. But, the dark and musty alley walls that were on either side of them were so forlorn that they seemed to be a page out of history. The path that was between them was so narrow, it seemed like the walls were on the verge of devouring the path. But this went unnoticed. Accompanied by one another, they had no reason to fear any living thing. The two were an indestructible team and their friendship, though a strange one, was the bond that held them. Even if they did argue a whole lot

  


What? I'm better! Freya said, placing her lance upon her shoulder.

  


You WISHHey! Don't poke me with that damn thing!

  


Freya removed her lance from Amarant's arm and threatened, Well, don't make me angry then!

  


Amarant walked to another part of the alley where he sat, grumbling.

  


Why do you walk away? Come back here! Freya shouted, unwilling to relent on her nagging.

  


  


Don't give me that.

  


I could kill with one swipe of my claws.

  


You could, but the victim won't be me.

  


How are you so sure? Amarant sniggered.

  


What? I'm sure it won't be me! My goodness, how would you ever be able to catch me? And if you were, then I'm quite sure you wouldn't harm me because if you did-

  


Shut up.

  


  


I will if you will.

  


  


The perpetual Burmecian rain finally lightened, in an ode to the two allies who were nearly enemies just a while ago. Instead of its usual heavy falling, it treaded lightly upon the heads of the two companions who sat in the alley in silence, enjoying each other's company.

  


  


  


  



	3. Fighting Over Fights

I know this is really late, but it would have been crappier if I wrote it during school. Thanks to those who reviewed. If you haven't, I would appreciate your thoughts. Just a second of your day will make everything go yay! Okay, there I go making no sense again. 

The whole story will really take off soon, so encourage me- I'll do my best-est! =)

  


Heresy of Rain by cherry

  


Part III- Fighting over fights

  


So, Amarant what sort of business brings you here? inquired Freya curiously.

It just so happens that I'm here for the same reason you are, replied Amarant pointing at the badly-constructed hill of bags that sat next to Freya.

Christmas shopping? asked Freya incredulously. She ceased fixing the hill of gift bags that was falling apart and let one bag fall to the damp, stone ground. She just couldn't visualize Amarant doing anything charitable. Sure, he was a righteous fellow when it came down to the fairness of things, but as far as she was concerned, only one thing could persuade him to do something out of his constitution- a bribe.

All right, who paid you to do their Christmas shopping? asked Freya suspiciously. Only insanely rich people had the money to pay for such a bribe, and she was wondering who the wealthy idiot was.

Zidane and Dagger. Said that if I bought the gifts on this list, they would make sure all the little brats runnin' around on the streets weren't in my way for a year, said Amarant smugly.

How would they do that?

Who cares? Amarant shot back. 

All right, all right, no need to become defensive.

Hey, I'd take up an offer involving the phrase no kids', no brats', no little ones' (You get the picture, right?) any day, Amarant answered in satisfaction.

I see, laughed Freya good-humoredly. She sat with the clicking rain, falling atop her winged red helmet. It was soothing to hear the voice of renewal whisper in her ear its gentle melody. The wind hummed lightly by her face, brushing her white hair against her face. She felt like she was actually flying in the sky, above the grotesque activities of miscreants stealing and lying she was amidst the clouds atop her throne where she could dive into the water anytime. She wanted to snap back to reality, but the soothing mist settled her eyelids closed.

Soon she fell asleep from the ensemble of tunes played by the rain onto her helmet. She slid from the wall onto Amarant's shoulder, and he looked at her, surprised at her action.

She's asleep,' he thought amusedly. There's no way she would even think of such an action in real life. So should I leave her be? Yeah, probably. She gets catty too often.'

A few minutes passed. Amarant became increasingly uncomfortable at the thought of having Freya rest on his shoulder. She'll probably hit me with that stupid stick and try to kill me.'

Amarant nudged her away slowly as he moved away. Freya awoke immediately.

She looked very disoriented, which was funny considering she was always the right-time, right-place kind of person. She noticed Amarant shaking with his back turned to her.

Are you all right? She approached him with worry.

Amarant turned around. Apparently, he was shaking from laughter.

Freya bellowed. Why do I bother?

If I knew that answer, you would have shut up a long time ago.

Say what? Freya seethed.

Hey, do you notice how your way of talking becomes less formal around me? The real Freya wouldn't say something so informal. Amarant quickly changed the subject before she became PMS-woman.

The real Freya? Hah, don't talk of things you don't understand.

Amarant grumbled.

What was that? she replied tersely.

I said, Why not? You always do.'

  


Their bickering lasted for ages. When they finally settled their tempers, they once again began talking about their reasons for being out.

  


Freya asked curiously, pointing to Amarant's present list, May I see the list?

And why not? Freya huffed.

Do you like surprises?

Well then trust me on this one.

Trust such a strange word to Freya's ears. Trust whom? She had never really trusted anyone much after Fratley. When he had confessed that he couldn't recall Freya, her trust was shattered, forever it seemed. From that day forward, trust had become a foreign stranger to her. She had trusted Fratley with all of her heart, and when he confirmed his morose diagnosis, she had given up all faith in trust.

All trust is lost to me, Freya laughed hollowly.

So you trust no one? None of _your friends_? ventured Amarant slowly. He raised a suspicious eyebrow under the mass of flaming red hair, and then turned his head away mumbling a bit to himself.

The query struck her as a bit funny. It seemed that he was trying to hint something. _Was _he trying to insinuate something? No! Of course not! Since when would Amarant ever speak such words? Since now' echoed a gentle and soothing voice in the back of her mind. Freya was a bit shocked at the prospect, but she understood. Two can play that game,' thought Freya, satisfied with her quick wit.

Freya forced a smile and replied softly, Well, in the past I assumed the idea that trust was impossible for me to accept. I could never seem to come in terms of trusting people. That explains my acute paranoia. She nodded and continued, But perhaps _my friends_ could be an exception

Amarant was silent. Freya looked at him questioningly. He was _supposed _to smile or smirk, rather. Then he asked her quietly, Can I trust you on that?

It was incredulous how this one inquiry caused Freya to become so incensed, although it wasn't the catalyst for her variant range of emotions. Recalling Fratley once more induced pent-up anger to rise and it had to be forced back. It also caused Freya to recall all the misfortunate happenings of today and the painful memories of the past. Amarant's question was the last straw. She stood quickly, towering over Amarant, casting her irate, dark shadow across the already grey and desolate alley. She threw up her hands in exasperation and shouted angrily, Excuse me? What do you think you're doing? After you spy on me, eavesdrop on me, stalk me, nearly kill me, and essentially frighten the daylight out of me, you think it's permissible for you to be angry with me?

I'm not angry.

But Freya wasn't listening. She threw her winged red helmet onto the ground and kept shouting, I daresay that you have tried to reverse the situation!

No, I haven't

I am having a bad day! Not you! You have no involvement in my current predicament at all; this matter is out of your hands!

You're right, it is.

It is singularly I who must pay penance for the obscure since perpetrated by someone rather than myself! Today has just been a chain of misfortunate events, hasn't it? And now you insult me by questioning me on my integrity, too? I thought I knew you more! I though I could trust you more!

The last statement rang in the stagnant silence in the air and echoed all about the alley walls. Amarant broke the icy silence that followed Freya's heated explosion by replying, I'm not angry, I haven't tried to reverse the situation, the matter is out of my hands, and you answered my question.

Freya stood with her fists clenched tightly for a moment. The cascading raindrops fell as did Freya's arms. The next moment, she slid wearily down the dingy alley wall next to an unperturbed Amarant.

Again, silence plagued the night, expectant of an unrequited answer. The luminous streetlight evaded Amarant's face as he replied to the yeah, you can trust me; I can trust you, whatever. He waved his hand at the empty air to ward off any wayward emotion that was still clinging to the silence.

Freya glanced at Amarant to see him expecting an answer. Drained of energy after her outburst, she said wearily, I apologize, Amarant, for my explosive tirade. 

All right. But don't get near me with your pointed stick the next time you do that. It's not like I would get hurt or anything, but I don't think my battle clothes and stuff would last with you and your spear. Amarant wanted to add, You can turn anything into a sad sob story, huh? With that trust thing and that life being fair thing But Amarant was smart enough to know when something would be dangerous.

Freya said wryly.

Amarant ceased the staring contest with the stone ground and asked Freya, What's so funny? Having my clothes ripped up would _not_ be a fun experience for either of us so quit giggling.

I was _not_ thinking of what would happen to your garments. I was, instead, laughing at the prospect of you worrying over something as trivial as that. Are you sure I'm not going to hurt you? I am stronger than I seem.

Not as strong as I am.

Is that a challenge?

Is that an acceptance?

Oh, you'll regret this!

Shut up and start fighting.


	4. A Lull Between Melodies

Wow. It's been over a year. And people still care! Okay that's it, you've got me inspired, I'll continue this just for those who were kind enough to leave me with their words. So should I tell you my excuse for stalling? It's school. It's so incredulously gay. Anyway, I'll let the mysterious airs surrounding my personal life stay mysterious. It diverts attention away from the story anyhow. Anyway, I'll try not to stall anymore (key word: try). If you feel the urgent need to read more (haha) go bug me with reviews. Happy belated holidays!

  


Heresy of Rain by cherry aka Mogrika

  


Part IV- A Lull Between Melodies

  


The battle rages on

  


Ow, that hurts! Freya exclaimed with mock-spite. Now observe. Freya placed cards down on the table with a winning hand. So now that I win, you have to help me wrap the presents and deliver them!

  


Amarant growled. Why poker? He asked the question more a way to divert Freya from her huge ego that was only swelling with her victory than anything else.

  


When there weren't battles to fight, we Dragoons would play poker. And just about everything else.

  


I see. Then, Amarant had a wicked thought. How about we play strip poker?

  


Freya jumped up in horror and shoved her lance at his face. Y-you jest!

  


Haha. Like anyone would want to see your skimpy body. Amarant walked off, smirking at her stupidity. She was so fun to tease.

  


Dirty cur. Freya crossed her arms and smirked back.

  


Well, if I'm so dirty, I guess I'll have to go and take a shower Amarant strode quickly but in that leisurely Amarant-ish stroll to her bathroom.

  


Not if I get there first! Freya shoved her polearm horizontally across the bathroom entrance to block Amarant.

  


What the hellever heard of guests first?

  


Ever heard of ladies first?

  


You're hardly a woman.

  


You're just sore that you lost. At poker. To me. With that Freya glided gracefully beneath her spear and said to Amarant who was only four inches away from her, My house—my rules.

  


The door shut with a grumbling Amarant facing it.

  


Damn rat woman, Amarant cursed loftily. 

  


He was used to Freya's bossiness, competitiveness, and, in general, Freya-ness. He couldn't complain though. Without her bossiness, competitiveness, and et cetera, she would hardly be anything but an ordinary rat woman. Besides, she was better company than the purple-haired brat.

  


Although,' Amarant pondered, I could do without all her nagging.'

  


He sat on the couch that he claimed his and relaxed when he heard Freya start singing in the shower. She had apparently forgotten of Amarant's presence or just finally gone crazy. Nah, she had already lost her marbles. But be it insanity or not, Freya's beautiful voice echoed ethereally, bouncing off the walls of white ceramic bathroom tiles and creating something of an angelic echo.

  


Amarant tried not to notice.

  


Yet, the melody pulled him in. There was a sense of deep longing, of undeniable aching, of nostalgic retrospection, and of delicate happiness that was, nonetheless, capable of coping. Amarant walked slowly towards the bathroom door, step by cautious step as Freya's floorboards protested against the dirty and heavy footsteps. He paused about four feet in front of the door. He was thinking. The song with all it's pain and happiness and longingit could have been the story of Freya's life. Where had she learned such a song?

  


Maybe it was an ancient song like the Dagger's, Amarant said aloud. The thought just a random assumption. He wasn't serious about it, though. Fairy tales, he muttered, and he sat on the couch again.

  


By now, Freya had stopped her yodeling and humming and singing and was out of the shower fully dressed. Your turn, she said pertly.

  


Okay, Miss Perky, Amarant said sarcastically.

  


Don't forget what you owe me Freya walked off victoriously. She was enjoying this too much.

  


So yeahshe won that one. Why couldn't he ever win?

  


Maybe it's this damn house, Amarant muttered darkly.

  


~*~

  


Wow, nice furniture, commented Amarant sardonically on Freya's furnishings. There sat in the center of her room a disciplined ensemble of a table and a few chairs with the backs ramrod straight. Doesn't this woman relax?' thought Amarant, stroking his chin with wonder. 'Normal people would relax at home. Then again, she's not normal.'

  


Welcome to my humble abode, Freya started to say with a regal bow. She stopped half-way, however, remember that it was Amarant, and he didn't really give a shit. She laughed heartily as she regained her posture. Amarant looked ambivalent between bowing and not. He was sort-of bobbing his head. And he looked very uncomfortable. But then she wonderedwhy was he doing it? Why would he even think about bowing when he had never minded manners before? Hmfunny how things change.

  


Gotten more polite already, have we? Freya laughed again heartily and walked off to the kitchen to make some tea.

  


You wish. I was only trying to pick up something I dropped, Amarant expression was unreadable.

  


Sure, sure, Freya said airily dismissing his excuse with a wave of her hand.

  


Amarant was uncomfortable standing there so he walked off to the couch and plopped down on it, stretching out the poor tidy thing. He must have felt as out of place as he looked because he shifted uncomfortably and then proceeded to just sit properly.

  


Nah,' he thought. This isn't working.' He was still uncomfortable.

  


So Amarant stretched out on the couch and lay there with his hands behind his head and a foot resting on her shiny coffee table. Much better.

  


Freya, who was making a soothing cup of tea, appeared from the kitchen and did not happen to see Amarant lying down, saw the couch and sauntered towards it with not an echo rising from her gentle footsteps. She jumped over the couch and—surprise, surprise—she was greeted with the bewildered face of Amarant which would have been bewildered if it could be seen. Amarant moved himself just in time so that Freya wouldn't land on his stomach. Still, the two were unbearably close. For a moment, they met eye-to-eye in utter silence. But they were too close, and a great terror inside the two fearless warriors arose so that it was pulsating in their throats. Something. They were battling it. They couldn't bear it. So they fled. 

  


What the hell do you think you're trying to pull? Amarant demanded, more embarrassed then anything else.

  


Me? What are you talking about! This is the second time today that you've tried to take advantage of me! How can you say—Hey wait! Where are you going? Don't leave while I'm yelling at you! Freya slid before Amarant. Where are you going?

  


Amarant grunted. He shoved Freya out of his way and headed for the restroom.

  


She was shocked at his abrupt rudeness. She shouldn't have been. She had been victim to it before. But now that he was here, it was different somehow. Maybe it was the fact that they were within the closed quarters of her home where the two were bound to cross paths. Or maybe it was the fact that many times today, the two had been so close to each other, they could feel each other's very pulse. Maybe it was because today, she had been close with two men—one, her former lover who she had not forgotten yet, and the other a close friend to help her forget. But she was hurt by Amarant's behavior just now. He was a close friend, but just now, he had treated her just like a commoner or a stranger. Just like Fratley had done.

  


~*~

  


When Amarant got out of the shower, he went straight to the living room without speaking to Freya. He changed back into his usual battle attire and headed towards the door. He was leaving again.

  


You know, it's snowing outside of Burmecia. I don't think Treno is close enough tonight. Freya hadn't even turned her head from where she was on the couch. She had been peering into an old book when Amarant had attempted to leave.

  


I don't think your house is far enough, Amarant countered in reply. Oh, and decorations wouldn't hurt to spice up the place.

  


That did it. Freya stood up and walked over to Amarant dangerously.

  


You owe me, she said bluntly. Her steely voice was colder than the forbidding snow in the town square.

  


You don't really care, said Amarant, still facing the door but paused for now.

  


It's not the prospect of wrapping and delivering presents which you owe me. You promised. Don't go back on your word. Like you did before

  


Amarant whirled around and a surprised Freya backed up a step. She had said too much and expected to hear Amarant's harsh and accusing words but instead he laughed.

  


Eerie.

  


I just can't win. Amarant haphazardly threw his travel necessities on the couch. He, too, threw himself on the couch and stretched out comfortably. Amarant half sat up and asked expectantly.

  


Freya just threw a bunch of sheets at Amarant. She got a muffled noise in response.

  


This is what I get for being fair, Amarant muttered as soon as he crawled out from under the sheets.

  


At least we didn't have a fight which I would have won yet again, Freya said as she selected a book from her ornate bookshelf. She sat in a chair next to Amarant in the dark room lit only by a fireplace and Christmas lights outside.

  


what are you doing? asked Amarant, motioning to Freya's lovely room which she could have to herself if only she would leave.

  


Reading about myths, Freya answered, oblivious to Amarant's gestures.

  


  


She closed the book shut with both hands and looked at Amarant as if answering his unspoken question. Not fairy tales—myths. It's quite interesting how people interpreted the world back in the Eras of Shadows.

  


Amarant said disinterestedly.

  


Yes. The populace of the olden days had many heathen beliefs to which they adhered. Take for instance—

  


Thanks for the lecture, but I didn't ask, Amarant interrupted, his back facing Freya.

  


I know you didn't ask. You never do. Even though you want to know anyway. Freya let her words sink in for several minutes before she spoke again. 

  


Amarant didn't answer. He pretended to be asleep. He would win this time.

  


Freya walked towards Amarant and covered him up with the blanket. For some reason she felt maternal. Strange. She returned to her chair and took up reading once more.

  


Amarant didn't notice Freya's gesture. He was asleep. As soon as his eyes closed, he was off into the realm of Somnus, dreaming up some wicked or abstract dream.

  


Freya crept closer to the fireplace and stared at the mysterious light that radiated from the flames. The fire danced and flowed like water. It was almost like watching an upside down waterfall cascade from earth to heaven. The dancing flames burst forth from their crevices in the wood as they longed to free themselves from the dam and be free flowing. Fire was water, water was fire. They had different forms but they both flowed in the same endless movement. Freya wondered if, perhaps, fire and water had been one element once.

  


What was she thinking? Fire and water—one element? It was much too late for her to be thinking rationally. Freya got up and went to her room but her bed was cold. Argh, now what?' she thought, frustrated. She got up slowly and tiptoed back to the living room. Amarant was still there. Well of course he's still there!'

  


Much too late for me to be wandering, she muttered, shaking her head.

  


Freya crept towards the fireplace and tried to sleep in front of it, but by now, even the flames had gone to sleep and crept back into their nests to lie dormant until the next awakening. 

  


She sighed. I hope Amarant doesn't mind'

  


She crept by his side on the couch and sat on the floor, resting her back on front side of the couch and letting her head droop lower and lower until her signature dragon hat was all that could be seen of her head. 

  


It was warm here.

  


And so she slept, soundly and comfortably.

  


~*~

  


The sun was out when Freya groggily awoke, and with a start, she realized she was sleeping on the couch, too. 

  


Oh goodness, Amarant! I'm so sorry I didn't mean to— she started. Then she turned around and realized she was alone. "Oh good," she sighed, very relieved. Being to close to Amarant made her uncomfortable. It was good that he wasn't next to her. But if he wasn't on the couch, where could he be? She searched the house for Amarant, thinking she might have crawled up and joined him on accident and he had just moved to a different location. But the rooms were left untouched. Seeing that Amarant was truly gone, she went to the kitchen and sat down to a lonely breakfast.

  


Alone again, she murmured. She felt a sad sort of feeling wash over her. Like the aftermath of a fun party. The day she spent with Amarant was kind of like that. After all, both parties and Amarant were accompanied with fighting, crude humor, and wellmore fighting if it was a Burmecian party. Still, Amarant's presence always seemed to lighten her mood, especially if he was visiting her at home. Freya practiced more discipline in the presence of the rest the crew, but Amarant understood. There was some sort of untouched, unspoken connection between the two. Kind of like they shared an inside joke.

  


Freya sighed and began to wrap presents for Puck. She brought out a box of ribbons and foil. She angrily wrapped each present with the stupid shiny foils and finished them off with bows that she kept curling and curling until they looked like the ugly haired wigs of Lowell when he played magistrates. She was bitter that Amarant had broken his promise, but what could she do? She stopped curling and looked at her masterpiece, or rather, victim of experimentation. The poor present seemed to be peering at her meekly, letting her vent her anger on it.

  


It must have been the present's lucky day.

  


The anger that Freya had felt a minute before seeped out of her body, and she was just left with cold longing. The weather made it no better. But she ignored this and just wrapped the presents in their cold, reflective foils and ribbons, staring outside the window with a yearning demeanor. She wished she could share the holidays with somebody—anybody

  


It was going to be another Christmas alone.

  


Freya sighed. At least I've got my tea.

  


  



	5. Prelude to a Long, Winding Road

**Disclaimer:** Squaresoft owns all characters of Final Fantasy IX.

**Author's note:** I hate to write this chapter. This is sort of an interlude; it's sort of a boring chapter. The _next_ chapter is when they…oh my…I won't reveal it. Thanks to all who took a second out of their day to leave me a note. It's always so nice to get feedback. Anyway, I am a failure when it comes to not stalling. Because I always do it. Still, I think I should at least get a C for effort.

**Heresy of Rain**

By Mogrika

_Part V- Prelude to a Long, Winding Road_

"Damn! No tea!" Freya flipped over a couple of boxes where she had a massive supply of tea bags. Whether it was because of too many days of stress or too many people of annoyance, Freya had overindulged in her tea supply. Now she had to go to the local grocer to buy some. "Simply marvelous!" Freya shouted in exasperation.

Freya swung on her red coat haphazardly and threw her winged hat on so it landed in an almost sideways direction. She left her spear at home since an angry mood did not combine well with a spear.

Freya walked swiftly and so that her footsteps made her lean forward. She crossed her arms and a dour expression graced her usually regal face. Dragon Knight or not, Freya was angry and unreasonable, and she could hardly control her temper. But she knew she had to.

The thought made Freya's feet slow to a slow tapping, and her arms slowly became uncrossed. The dark expression on her face softened, and Freya resigned from being angry.

"What shall I do with myself?" she sighed with a tired smile. She put her thoughts away in the back of her mind as she entered the Burmecian Market Square.

The marketplace was bustling with boisterous activity and words. People left and right were buying, selling, or bartering. Everyone all around was conversing in their merriest voices, and they were loud. Still, the disciplined Burmecians were polite, and the din of the marketplace was only the result of a large number of people in the same place at the same time.

Freya entered a shop and grazed her fingers across the shelf, looking for the right tea bags while she read the names aloud. "Lemon, Raspberry, Mint, Earl Grey, Chamomile…no Green Tea." Freya didn't feel like wasting money on other tea bags of lesser quality, so she left the store.

"Good day, Lady Freya," came a vibrant voice. Freya turned. A dashing Burmecian soldier had just greeted her. He slightly bowed and asked Freya warmly, "How do you do?"

"I fare well, thank you," Freya answered, bowing as well. She had seen this guy somewhere before, but she couldn't remember where. "Please forgive me, but I don't recall your name…"

"Oh, my name is Pierre," he said, his face coming forward enthusiastically to tell her.

"Pierre…I shall remember your name," Freya smiled kindly and entered an herb store. To her surprise, Pierre followed.

"Lady Freya, I'm sorry to bother you—"

"Oh don't be silly! It was my fault for not inviting you to come and walk with me. Please, if you will, continue." Freya faced Pierre, but didn't really notice him. She still had Fratley on her mind. His face kept appearing in her mind as if they were plastered on soap bubbles that were floating everywhere. There were thousands of them, and when one popped, others seemed to appear. Her wonderful rainbow illusions of Fratley were much like bubbles. Seemingly beautiful, but in danger of popping and returning to harsh reality. That was what her memories of Fratley were like. Volatile. Dangerous. Beautiful.

Pierre interrupted her thoughts. "Lady Freya, if you would be so kind, may I have the honor of escorting you to the annual Burmecian Ball?" Pierre was bent down on one knee with his Dragoon hat held by both hands on his chest. His fingers held it softly, gently as he awaited Freya's answer.

Freya stared at the man kneeling at her feet. Brown strokes of hair fell on his face, but he didn't dare brush them away while he was waiting for Freya's reply. He gazed at her expectantly.

"Lady Freya?"

She didn't answer. She was thinking.

Ohh…it was too early to be thinking of this now! Freya didn't want to deal with any more men at the time—no matter how charming they were.

"I'd love to." Freya was astounded. Where did that come from?! Why had she suddenly said "yes" when she had already decided "no"?!

Pierre's face lit up. 'Oh dear, now I can't say no! He's just like a kid,' Freya thought. "Pierre," Freya asked curiously. "Of what age are you?"

"Why, Lady Freya, I am 20 years of age. Why do you ask?"

"No reason," Freya replied evasively. 'I should just tell him I changed my mind,' Freya said to herself. 'Pierre is much too young for me.' She said this though Pierre was hardly a year or two younger than Freya herself. 'Well, it's only one evening,' Freya said to herself. 'He was good looking, too. It's a shame he's so young."

But she was lying to herself.

"Well, it was such a pleasure to talk with you, Lady Freya!" Pierre put one hand upon his hat and tipped it.

"I agree," Freya replied with a tepid smile. She tipped her hat as well and turned around.

"Oh, wait, Lady Freya! You forgot—"

But she was gone, faster than a whisper in the wind.

In all his 20-something years of life, Amarant Coral had done nothing more than return a favor for anyone. Then again, no one bothered to care. Still, buying a gift for Freya? Amarant Coral? While he was alive and breathing?

Of course not.

It was Dagger and Zidane's request that Amarant buy Freya something with the money granted to him. After all, Amarant did know Freya better than most people; better than even Zidane, who had known Freya since a couple years back.

So Amarant had the money, the order, and the means. Now he only needed to find something for her. But…what do you get a prissy and proper rat-woman like Freya? Who knows. Something prissy and proper like herself? No, she hadn't been so prissy and proper lately.

'I guess that's her way of showing Christmas spirit,' he thought. Amarant stopped walking abruptly.

It was a girly shop.

He sighed. This was gonna be a long day.

"Where is he? He said he'd be here!" Freya thought anxiously. The snow falling in the town square was usually filled with kids, but today she saw few. She looked among them, hoping to find something…

Splat.

A snowball hit Freya square from behind.

Vehemently, she turned around and began to yell, "Excuse yourself at once!" Then she noticed it was Prince Puck.

"My Prince, you shouldn't greet people that way," Freya said, kneeling to get at Puck's height. "In any case, you're late."

"Um…sorry. Anyway, where are the presents?" Puck asked with the slightest bit of impatience.

"Here." Freya pointed to a huge sack.

"You look like Mrs. Claus!" Puck laughed as he searched through his pockets. "Thanks." He handed Freya something childishly wrapped with a rigid bow and haphazard curly ribbons shooting out in all directions. Then, in true Puck fashion, the wandering Prince of Burmecia was off again.

"I should go, too," Freya said softly. She had nowhere else to go but home.

It was pink. And expensive. And the Flaming Amarant was standing next to it.

Amarant stared at it stupidly, not really seeming to see what was in front of him. When he realized what it was he shook his head. 'There's no way.'

"That ribbon is a popular item," interrupted a greasy salesman. "Shopping for your girlfriend, eh?" He clasped his bony hands together and grinned towards Amarant in a pathetically imploring way.

Amarant walked to a different aisle silently. 'What the hell am I doing here?' He felt as out of place as he looked.

The sleazy salesman audaciously followed the brooding customer. "How about a green ribbon? Green goes with everyth—"

"Shut up." Amarant left.

Amarant couldn't take it. He just had to leave. But now that he had escaped the sleazy store…what was he to do?

The painful choices that awaited him were a music shop, a bookstore, more girly shops, an ancient bookstore, a jewelry store, and weapons shop.

Sigh…what could he rule out?

Music: He didn't know much about the music Freya preferred. It would be too much of a hassle to find out, too.

Bookstore: More directed towards frumpy hags and geezers like Tot. But then again, Freya sort of fell in the "hag" category.

Girly stores: NO.

Jewelry: What, was he gonna freakin' marry her? No need to stop there.

Weapons: Wasn't her Dragon's Hair a.k.a. 'Divider of Heaven' something like the best lance ever?

Amarant entered the bookstore, bought Freya a book, and exited as quickly as possible. He walked towards Freya's house to drop the book off. When he got there, he popped the door open easily and dropped the book off on her kitchen table. Amarant scribbled a quick note and left the rainy city of Burmecia, not once looking back.

Freya arrived home after giving Puck his gifts. She checked her house once more, sort of hoping that Amarant would be sitting at her table, smirking at her saying, "What took you so long?"

But he wasn't. No company. No tea. No one to save her from her own loneliness.

Freya tossed her red coat sofa, but didn't see to make sure it landed on it. She didn't care. She was tired. Freya's footsteps pattered on the cold wood floor serenely as she went into the kitchen to fix herself a cup of something besides tea. She placed her hat on her trusty coffee table. Freya fixed herself some decaffeinated coffee, but while she was waiting for it to brew, she noticed that someone was behind her. Freya made no sudden movements—yet. Then in a flash, Freya whipped around in battle stance to face the symbol of an able and dangerous fighter—Freya's very own Dragoon helmet.

"Huh." It was all she could say. After her heart rate returned to normal, Freya noticed that the reason she thought her hat was a person was because it was tall sitting atop the table. And it was on top of something else, too.

Freya's face broke out into a grateful and hearty laugh. For the first time today she felt a warm fire of joy spread through her. Somebody cared. Somebody cared enough to bring her a gift. She took the wrapped box and opened it to find…

_"The History of Shadows."_ Freya read the title of the book aloud. "Incredible! And it is even a book on a subject I am fond of! Now who was smart enough to send me this gift?" Freya looked for the tag. "From: Zidane and Dagger. And written in handwriting of Amarant, I see," she laughed. "How sweet."

Then, Freya realized that there was something she needed to do.

She grabbed her belongings, saluted Burmecia, and left with the yearning feeling that what she was looking for was close by!

Freya traveled across magnificent and verdant grass plains that were swaying their goodbyes to her. Ahead of her was a looming forest like a sudden black cloud on a sunny day, but Freya didn't worry about danger yet. She stepped into the wooded shadows and disappeared in the lush darkness.

Freya looked around and there in the middle of the forest, sitting on a tree stump, was Amarant Coral.

He smirked and said, "What took you so long?"

Freya laughed. She didn't feel quite so lonely anymore.

**TBC…**

**Note: **You know what's funny? Whenever I imagine Amarant trying to decide what store to go to, and he has all those options, I think of him wearing like a cloth across his head that asian cultures use when they're studying hard. You know what I mean? That thing. Yes, and I know you know what "that thing is." Anyway, just wanted to point out that random but funny mental picture…


End file.
